What the Thunder Said
by Raskol
Summary: Pre-manga. Nobility obliges. Ran Fan and Ling, on responsibility. UST.


**a/n:** Written in 2010. Still not too fond of it, but it was an interesting exercise in mood-crafting, I think.

I have been informed that it's now officially Lan Fan. However, because this story has already been posted elsewhere, and because it's kinda old, I'm leaving the spelling as is. I'll roll with the official spelling in any newer stories.

* * *

He'd been missing for three hours, but the storm had been building for days. By the time she found him, it had already broken, like someone had cut a hole in the bottom of the bowl that was the sky to let the water pour out onto the mountainside. He was sprawled on his back at the top of the boulder shaped like a tiger's head, a little ways off the beaten trail. His clothes were wet and clung to his frame. His hair was coming loose, she noticed, and for a moment, she could do nothing but stand there at the bend in the path to catch her breath.

"You know, Ran Fan," he said suddenly, raising his voice to be heard over the drumming of the rain, though there was no way he could have seen her, "when I was younger, I was convinced that I wasn't a true son of the emperor."

She shivered at the feel of the rain soaking through her skin and into her bones. "Master?" she said, but that sound was almost lost too.

"I was convinced that I was an imposter." After a pause, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. "What, don't tell me you forgot! We've both heard all those tales about the true heir being switched out for some peasant boy while he's in the cradle. It was always to protect the real prince from the assassins and the court intrigue and the evil spirits come to curse him. Do you remember now?" He flopped back down, this time with his arms spread out to embrace the sky. "I listened to so many of those stories growing up that I started to believe them. I'd always assumed that I was the peasant living in the midst of all this royalty and that the real prince was out there working some rice paddy, that one day he would come back to reclaim his rightful place and everything that comes with it. All of it, the responsibility and the power, and then I would be able to walk away, just like that, free." He paused. "But that's not how it turned out at all."

She could hear the frown in his voice; he was in one of his moods. "It's raining," she said. "Everyone in the village is out looking for you. We should go back."

He laughed. "We should," he said and lay there, unmoving. Then, like a sudden flash of lightning, "Let's run away."

The firmness of his voice shuddered through her. Thunder. "Master?"

"Just you and me," he said, sitting up, and, squinting through the sheet, she could see the breadth of his shoulders and chest through his clothes. "Well, maybe Fuu too, though I don't think the old man can keep up with us. His hair's getting grayer each day."

She swallowed, tasted raindrops on her lips, and kept her voice steady. "He says it's because of you."

"Nonsense! He just doesn't want to face the reality of his situation. But I see how it is, you're trying to distract me." He crossed his arms over his chest, pulled his legs into a lotus flower, and grinned. "So what do you say?"

"They will track us down."

"But if – _if _we make it through, think of the freedom!"

"All of the clan depends on you," she said, blinking the water out of her eyes.

He sighed, and she thought she could see his shoulders collapse inwards, but his tone was light and playful. "That's just like you," he said, "shooting down all my brilliant ideas before giving them a chance."

"I did not mean to – "

"No, it's all right, you're right," he said. "It was a foolish idea."

He didn't say anything more, just sat there with his eyes closed and the raindrops rolling off his face, but there was something peaceful in the way that he was sitting, and she felt herself drawn into it. Calm at the center of a storm. When she came up to the boulder, she put her hand on its side and felt the warmth of the stone radiating outwards.

"It's dangerous for you to be out here alone," she said quietly.

He opened his eyes, though she had thought he wouldn't have heard her. "What are you talking about? You were always there, weren't you?"

"Master – "

He cut her off. "I know you won't admit it. A good bodyguard's not supposed to be noticed, after all, but me – nobody can sneak up on me." He grinned. "Not even you."

She didn't know what to say to that, and he smiled into her silence. "Come, watch the rain with me. The least you can do is let me pretend for a moment, or is that not allowed?"

"Of course not, Master."

"So what are you waiting for?" He patted the empty space beside him.

She hesitated, then clambered up to sit beside him, fingers sliding over the warm stone and warm water with warm dirt sliding beneath her fingernails. He reached down and his hand was steady against her wrist there; she felt her heartbeat trip as he touched her and pulled her up.

After she had settled herself next to him, his shoulder touching hers, one point of contact between them, she said, "You didn't need to help."

"I know," he said. His voice was light, but his eyes were serious. "I wanted to."

They watched the rain together.


End file.
